


Twisted

by cherryvanillaaa



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Horror, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 08:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10213934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanillaaa/pseuds/cherryvanillaaa
Summary: "I just found it interesting...that 17 years later that little baby grew up to shoot him in the face."





	1. Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Sooo I thought this up one night after watching Halloween, the Rob Zombie version, started writing at work one day, and behold - this is the result. It's just a different take on the ending of Rob Zombie's remake, after Laurie shoots Michael. Hope everyone enjoys! And also, the quote in the description was said by Rob Zombie himself, during his commentary of the movie - I don't own it, I thought it was fitting for the story *over and out*

It had been three weeks, and the scars still hadn't completely healed.

The physical ones, she was referring to. The stitches were still deeply imbedded in her skin, and if she moved her face _just_ the right way, she could feel the skin begin to split.

Scarring was inevitable - she didn't need the doctors to tell her that. Physical and mental. While the physical scars were merely cosmetic, the mental scars were deeper than the sharpest knife.

Three weeks, and she still hadn't been able to shake this. To shake _him_.

Laurie Strode closed her eyes to her reflection. She should've known better; when she closed her eyes, he loomed larger than ever. The dark circles under her eyes were proof of that - she hadn't slept well in three weeks (some nights, she hadn't slept at _all_ ). But really, who the hell blamed her?

Even now, Laurie wanted to go back in time and close her eyes to some of the things she'd seen... She'd never considered herself to be a sheltered child. She wasn't the most worldly seventeen year old, granted, but her parents had usually let her experience things that a normal teenager should be able to...

God, her _parents_.

Or were they? She wasn't sure about anything, anymore.

Laurie, in the midst of being rushed to the hospital after the incident, had overheard someone - be it a cop, paramedic - mention something about a family history of mental illness, and the Strodes had managed to keep her from being like a woman named Deborah and a man named Michael for so long... She was taking a wild guess, but she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to hear that. She didn't even know what it meant. Whatever it was, it led her to think of the absurd possibility that the Strodes were not her real parents... something she had never even considered until now.

And that man - the one who, after terrorizing her for one night, now seemed to perpetually terrorize her every night in her head. Who _was_ he? And what on Earth did he _want_ from her?

Laurie knew, looking at her tired, crazy-eyed reflection in the mirror, that somehow, all of this was connected. Part of her wanted to brush everything under the rug, and just forget what had happened. Another part of her knew that she wouldn't be able to move on if she didn't find out what the fuck was going on around here. And she also knew who she'd have to ask. The white haired man who had tried to save her- she prayed he would be able to answer her questions. He had called the nightmare male form _Michael_ \- she didn't think it was a coincidence that she had heard that name before.

The white haired man, Dr. Loomis, had told Michael that 'it wasn't Laurie's fault', and to 'let her go'. What exactly was 'it', and why would this giant man, whom she'd never met in her life, think that she was somehow _responsible_?

Dr. Loomis knew something she didn't. She had to get these things figured out. She would never find peace, otherwise. Laurie looked at her reflection in the mirror. Seeing the scars up close, for some reason, brought tears to her eyes. _Why did this happen to me_? She didn't care that she was 'feeling sorry for herself' - she had every fucking reason to.

And now, she had a feeling she was going to feel even sorrier when she uncovered a truth that it seemed everyone knew but her.


	2. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anywhoo, here's chapter 2 for the story - this one gets a bit more into the nitty gritty. In brief summary, this story starts off at the end of the first movie, when Laurie shoots Michael in the head. This is my alternate version of the aftermath. Enjoy!

As Laurie limped up the hallway towards the room Dr. Samuel Loomis was residing in in the special care unit, she pushed all thoughts that were urging her to run away to the back of her mind. Now that she was so close to knowing, it was like a physical need.

_508, 508, 508_... she searched each number on each door that she passed, and briefly hoped Annie's car wouldn't have a ticket under the wiper when she went back out to retrieve it. Mostly because she had taken it without permission, and she didn't want anyone to find out she was here. Undoubtably, Sheriff Brackett would find out somehow - he always did; had since she and Annie were kids. While Laurie was forever grateful to him for letting her stay at his house - especially while his own daughter, Annie, was in the SCU as well - she knew he knew more than he was letting on, and if she was to ask, she knew he'd keep his mouth shut. So, she'd found out what room the good doctor was in, hijacked Annie's car, and had driven to the hospital. She was gonna probably be in some deep shit, but she had the leverage of only wanting to know what everyone was keeping from her. So they'd all just have to back the fuck off.

_508_. Finally, she gimped to a stop in front of the room. She'd left her crutches in the car, as as not to draw attention to herself. Also, in case someone recognized her (like Brackett himself, or one of his cops), she'd be able to make a less messy getaway. That is, unless one of the stitches in her leg tore open. _Why am I worried about this? I have every right to know who I am._

"Holy crap, here goes nothing." _Or everything_. Laurie took a deep breath, and opened the door to the room.

To her immense relief, Dr. Loomis was awake, watching TV. He recognized her immediately, as evidenced by the look of utter surprise on his face. Laurie let the door close behind her, and she limped over to the chair next to the bed on the left side. "My dear, how are you?" asked this man whom she didn't know.

Easing herself slowly down into the chair, so as not to tear any of those damn stitches, she looked at him with a weary expression, "About the same as you; plus over a hundred stitches all over my body, minus four fingernails, and enough glass in my gut to make a windshield." Dr. Loomis struggled to prop himself up into a sitting position in his bed, but Laurie reached out to touch his hand, "Please." She didn't want him to injure himself further, as he had almost been murdered trying to protect her. Her, this girl that he had never met in his life. The white haired man turned his blue eyes onto hers, and then she realized she was crying, yet again. " _Please_ , I - I -"

"Shh, it's alright," Dr. Loomis reached his other hand out so that both of his hands were clasping her outstretched one - it was about as much as he could move with an IV in his arm. This was not what she had planned - she had carefully rehearsed what she was going to say before she came. "Who _is_ he?" she blubbered, snot running down her face. She hadn't wanted to spring this on him without conversation first, to soften him up, but she was far beyond the point of reasonable interaction at this moment. Dr. Loomis handed her the tissue box that was on his bed, and she took the whole thing, mushing two tissues into her watery eyes.

Dr. Loomis didn't answer - he, himself, had been trying to rehearse what he would say when this happened. She had been a loose canon from the moment Michael had taken her hostage... Dr. Loomis knew that she would get an idea in her head, and it would eat away at her sanity until she found answers. Unfortunately, the truth would also probably eat away at her sanity. It would certainly be a hard pill to swallow. Looking at her tear-stained, tired face, he didn't want to lie to her. The poor child had been through enough. And if she didn't find out from him, she'd find out from someone else, eventually. Someone who didn't know every extensive branch of this story.

Once she calmed down a bit, she looked up at him with a silent plea in her eyes. "Who is he?" she asked again, "Why did they say that I wasn't a Strode?" She sounded like a baby. She grabbed another few tissues and wiped at her face, not looking away from the man in the bed. He knew that she had to know, but at the same time, he didn't want to tell her. He wasn't quite sure how.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he struggled to come up with the words that would begin this nightmarish story, "... His name is Michael. Michael Myers." He saw a flash of recognition in her eyes at the name, and he wasn't surprised. Everyone knew that last name - they all knew the house, and that something terrible had happened there. The younger generations, such as Laurie, were fortunate enough to not remember it as a real event, but rather as a horror story used to scare children. Not everyone knew the full story. Dr. Loomis was one of the few. "Michael..." he began, then switched gears, "I assume you know the last name, and the rumors that are spread about it?" When she nodded, he continued, "I assure you, it isn't just a spooky story - it's so much more. Michael lived in the house with his family. He was a sweet boy, almost an old soul... but he had a-" How on earth to phrase this? "-a rough life. And when he was ten years old, he murdered three people in his home on Halloween night." Loomis swallowed, then continued. "He killed his mother's boyfriend, his older sister, and her boyfriend as well. He then went into his baby sister's room, took her out of the crib, and sat on the front porch with her until his mother got home from work. Michael was taken to Smith's Grove sanitarium. After two years of incarceration, he stopped speaking indefinitely. As far as I know, he hasn't said a word since. His mother went on to commit suicide, and Michael remained in the sanitarium for seventeen years altogether... until one night, he escaped. Some guards became a little too comfortable around him, forgetting that he had murdered more than three people before he was fifteen. He broke out, and headed to Haddonfield - his home."

Laurie tried piecing all of this together in her mind, and continued to wonder what the hell it had to do with her. "Why did he kill my friends?" She felt the tears start again. Was it because Linda had been trespassing in his house? But then why had he tried to kill Annie? She hadn't even been on the same street as the Myers' house. "Why did he take _me_?"

Dr. Loomis took another breath, not looking at her. "I knew Michael's motivation would be to find his baby sister... She was the only other person besides his mother that he cared about. That's the only reason he came back here."

Laurie still didn't understand - the answer that her mind came up with made no sense. "I don't know anybody named Myers, though. There's no one in school with that last name. Why would he think I would know anything about his family... me of all people..."

Suddenly, it came to her, feeling like a train had unexpectedly come crashing into her at hyper speed. "Oh, God, I'm not - I'm not related to him, am I? Like a cousin, or something?"

Dr. Loomis looked at her then. "Laurie, you are his baby sister."

The train backed up and ran her over again, crushing her lungs. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry - she didn't know if she could even do either one with this weight on her chest. The tears came again, " _Please_ , are you telling the truth?"

"Laurie," the white haired man looked somber, squeezing her hand, "I wouldn't joke about this, I assure you."

"So I'm not -" she blubbered, reaching for more tissues, "I'm not a Strode? I'm a _Myers_?"

"Yes," Dr. Loomis said with finality, his voice grim, " _You are Michael Myers' sister_."


	3. Nightmares

Laurie screamed loud and long as she was sucked back into the world of consciousness. She realized she was in the guest room of Annie's house, where she had been staying for the past two months. Upon becoming aware of this fact, she relaxed back onto the mattress. She was a little embarrassed, admittedly. She hadn't screamed like that in weeks. Before the incident, she couldn't remember _ever_ having screamed like that. It was exhausting.

Laurie rolled over in bed, and turned the clock to face her head on the pillow. 5:11am. _Hurray_.

She still had another hour and a half before she would start getting ready for school. _Guess I'll try to get a few more winks before the day starts._

Sighing, she pulled the blankets up around her face, rolling onto her side.

Of course, once she awoke from her nightmares, it was usually a bitch and a half to try and fall back to sleep. She would wake up so suddenly, her heart pounding as he body would jolt itself up off the bed like she had been electrocuted wide awake to protect herself.

It was a legitimate fear - the reason for her nightmares was very much alive, and, as far as she knew, still sitting in Smith's Grove sanitarium (for the second time in his life). He had killed one of her best friends, attempted to kill another, and had taken her hostage in the basement of his house.

_Their_ house; a sick part of her mind liked to remind her that she had lived there once, too. That was her intended home - the place she almost grew up in.

_Angel_. Her mind sounded out the word a thousand times in different tones, like some strange lullaby. _Angel Myers_. Much more interesting than Laurie Strode. But she _was_ Laurie Strode. This Angel - how was an Angel Myers supposed to be? Probably nothing like a Laurie Strode.

She wondered, for the hundredth time, if she would've turned out at all how she was now. Would she have the same values? The same morals and beliefs? Would she have dressed the same, acted the same? She doubted it. From what she had found out about her blood family, she would've probably been in juvie by now. Maybe she would've even picked up that knife, at some point -

Laurie squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to think about that.

And then there was the fact that she had a brother. Technically, she had two siblings, but her charming brother had murdered their eldest sister. What had she been like? _Judith_. What would having a sister be like? Laurie had spent her whole life thinking she was an only child; it would've been so different from her single-child life now.

Her mind continued to wonder, and it kept drifting back to the one person she equal parts didn't want to think about, but at the same time, the person she wanted to know about the most.

_Michael_.

She often wondered if he would have turned out the same, had she not been taken away from him. He probably would have, since her presence hadn't quelled his bloodlust in the first place. She'd only been removed from the house, as well as from the official report, once their mother had decided she just couldn't take it any more.

The whole thing was like a fucking soap opera.

Michael was her brother, but she had barely perceived him as a human being - more so as a personification of her worst fears coming to drag her away. The mask he wore was all rotted and peeling - she had thought he was a giant zombie. He was fucking gigantic; almost seven feet tall. And he had instilled a fear within her that was so jarring, she felt her chest clench just thinking about him.

That nightmarish man was her _brother_ , and Loomis had said that she was the only person alive that he cared about.

This was why she had called Smith's Grove and asked if Michael Myers could have visitors. Once she explained her situation to the nice secretary, the woman had told her _yes,_ surprisingly. The fact that Dr. Loomis had called a few hours before to ask the same question (on her behalf) probably had helped a little, she mused.

She could barely stomach the thought of having to go to school first. She was debating staying at home until she went over to the asylum to visit _him_. This was only her third week back at school - this was not at all how she imagined senior year would be. At this rate, she had missed enough school that she would either have to take summer classes, or just re-take the grade completely.

Who would've thought that one holiday would change almost everything?


	4. Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guyssss here's chapter 4! Finally it starts picking up - Laurie actually has some interaction with the big guy, that's who we're all here for ;) I have to be frank, I'm not 100% sure of all different psych ward protocols - I do work in a hospital setting, so I'm aware of a fair amount. Also I know though that depending on the area/place, protocols can be different, so I'm taking a few liberties with writing here XD Enjoy! ~

When Laurie stepped into the building, three thoughts went through her head at once: "I'm gonna puke", "I need to get out of here", and quite possibly the loudest thought, "One step at a time". That was what her psychologist kept telling her, and she repeated it daily like a mantra; one step at a time. One day at a time. One moment at a time. Take it all in stride, at whatever pace you need to go at. She held onto the advice like a lifeline; sometimes it was all she could take to keep from sinking to the floor in a hysterical mess. Kind of like right now, where she didn't know if she should try to turn and run as fast as she could, or if she should keep going. _I'm here for a reason, I came this far. Just one step,_ _one foot in front of the other_.  Another thought, perhaps the one that pushed her forward the most, whispered in her mind: _This is the only way_. Taking a deep breath, Laurie slowly started hobbling towards the front desk on her crutches. That last thought rang true: _this was the only way_. She had to know, had to be certain. Of what, she didn't entirely know. But she needed this.  
 

She smiled, or tried to as she approached the front desk, realizing that it probably looked more like a grimace. She could only imagine how much like Bride of Frankenstein she looked at the moment, what with all the stitches adorning her face and her hair flying around her head all crazy. She nervously tried to smooth it down with one hand as she parked herself in front of the desk, "Hi, um, I'm - My name is Laurie Strode," She took a deep breath, unsure of how to possibly continue. _I'm here to visit the man that did this to my body, and also put this crazed-constantly-on-the-verge-of-a-breakdown look in my eyes._  
 

Thankfully, the brown haired woman behind the check-in desk smiled, rising out of her chair, "Oh yes, Dr. Loomis called and said you might be coming." She reached a hand across the counter to gently grasp Laurie's, "My name is Chris, you call me if you need anything honey, I'm just down the hall," She tilted her head with a kind look, "I don't mean to pry, but are you sure you're up for this?"  
 

Laurie thought for a long moment, deciding that Chris seemed too genuine and kind to lie to. "No." she answered honestly, "I'm not. But I have to do it now, or I never will." It was true - now that she was finally here, the fear and anticipation rising, heart in her throat, she knew she might never have this chance again. She'd probably get thrown in here right next to her brother if Sheriff Brackett found out she was even remotely close to this vicinity. Laurie could just imagine him saying to her, a pleading look in his eyes like the one he got when he just didn't know how to help her, _Why Laurie? Why?_ _I thought you were terrified of him._  
  _I am_ , Laurie mentally answered the scenario in her mind, _More than I've ever been afraid of anything._  
    

                                                                                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The rest of her registration seemed like a blur - then finally she was being led down a narrow hallway, weird fluorescent lighting beaming down on her. There were two guards escorting her, one on either side. Their dark clothes were beginning to blur in her vision as they continued their slow trek down the hallway. The metal clicking of her crutches with each step seemed to be growing louder in her ears, kind of like a bell tolling, or a blacksmith forging... Or a knife slicing through someone's back-  
 

Laurie stumbled briefly, catching herself before she face-planted on the linoleum. The guards on either side of her immediately hopped to help, and she practically slurred, "I'm okay, I'm fine."  
 

"You sure you're gonna be alright, Miss?" The guard to her left, who's nametag read 'Kevin' inquired. Laurie nodded in reply, beginning to start her trek back down the hall. They were almost at the end - she couldn't stop now. _Almost there._  
 

They reached the door, which was more of jail cell bars draped across the hallway. Past this point were the more dangerous patient's in maximum security, the other guard, Randy, had told her before they'd started walking.  
 

Great, she thought as Randy tapped his badge on the scanner, and the metal bars slowly started to open in front of them. All three of them stepped in to the small area about four feet by four feet between the sliding 'doors'. There was a guard on the other side where they were going to as well - definitely stationed there to stop any escaped patient's from getting through those doors. Laurie wondered, as the one set of bars clanged shut behind them, if there had been anyone at that post the night her brother had escaped. She shuddered inwardly, and decided she'd rather not think about that. Once the doors behind them were securely locked, the guard on the other side opened the doors in front of them. Laurie noted that they'd probably only open for someone with authorization, and only one set of bars would open at a time. She made sure to remember both of these factors just in case she would need to make a break for it.  
 

She cleared her throat as they began to walk forward again, "Are these the only doors leading in and out of this wing?" she asked to anyone in particular.  
 

"Yes ma'am," Kevin spoke again, "And there's an officer here at all times."  
 

Laurie tried to be comforted by that. She also tried not to remember how very easy it had been for her brother to dismantle the two cops that had responded to Lindsay's 911 call while Laurie had been in the house with the kids.  
 

"Miss?" Someone was speaking to her, and then she realized both guards were looking at her.  
 

"Uh, what?" God, maybe she shouldn't have taken her pain pills before she came (not to mention before she drove a car that wasn't hers).  
 

"Are you ready?" Randy asked, motioning to the doors leading to the room that awaited them. It was then for the hudnreth time that Laurie felt how not ready she was, her breath catching in her throat as she realized this was her last stop, "Is he-" She almost couldn't finish her sentance, voice catching in her throat.  
 

"Not yet, they're grabbing him outta his room now," Randy replied, then seeing her look of fear added, "Don't worry, there'll be six guards in the room wit' ya. He can't do anything."  
 

Again, walking through the doors, Laurie tried very hard to be reassured. The words held no water; she'd seen her brother take more than one bullet and keep on going.  
 

This room that they had just entered looked to be a cafeteria, of sorts. It kind of resembled a school lunch setting, but much bleaker. She decided that she didn't want to relate any of this to her normal life at all, and shook the thought.  
 

Once she was settled comfortably at a table near the entrance, Kevin grabbed the Vocera attached to the front of his uniform and spoke into it, "We're all set here, go ahead and bring Myers."  
 

It was all Laurie could do to stay in her chair and not try and break out the door. _This is actually happening, sweet Jesus._ For the next few minutes she focused solely on breathing, staring at the table surface in front of her, attempting to keep her heart rate down. When she finally heard the door start to open, it felt like she was going to die right there. When she heard the chains clinking and the feet shuffling across the floor, she thought of how very good it was that she was already sitting down, for if she'd been standing she would've collapsed. And when she heard the chair across from her scrape against the floor as it was being pulled back, she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that she would never be the same after this.  
 

Her hands gripped her thighs hard to keep from shaking as she looked up very slowly. He was already looking at her, just as she'd expected. What she had not expected was the sheer size of him, nor the mask on his face, nor the crushing power of his gaze that practically withered her away to pure nerves. The only sound he made was gentle breathing, and he didn't move at all. He unnerved her so much just sitting here, staring at her, that she wanted to cry. But she didn't. She forced herself to look directly into those eyes, and addressed him as bravely as she could, " _Michael_."  
 

The words came out in a whisper, a side effect of her fear, and she cleared her throat so that her voice would carry more volume. "Michael." To the untrained eye, it would appear that the name had no effect on the being in front of her whatsoever. However, Laurie noted that he did, in fact, react to it in possibly the only way he could. He straightened in his seat ever so slightly; such a miniscule thing, but she was watching him so intensely that she could see everything. If it wasn't for the breathing, and the slow pulsing vein in his neck, he could've passed for a dead body propped upright in the chair.  
 

Laurie waited for something, anything else to happen. She waited for what felt like minutes. He did absolutely nothing else. Didn't say a word, didn't move a muscle. It was dead quiet in there, save for his breathing. One of the guards radio's crackled, and the sudden sound startled Laurie out of her stupor. Michael didn't flinch, unbothered by anything and everything. She wondered for the thousandth time what exactly was wrong with him. He didn't look sick - not like other mentally unstable patients. Not that she'd seen a lot of them, but still. He wasn't foaming at the mouth, wasn't speaking in tongues, wasn't climbing up the walls. He wasn't emaciated or deathly pale. There was something wrong with his mind, but what, she didn't know. She wasn't sure if anybody knew. What she did know was that anyone who had assumed this seemingly catatonic man was a ten year old trapped in a thirty-something year old's body was dead wrong; there was fierce intelligence swimming in his eyes. That she could see from any distance. They gleamed underneath his long, scraggly dirty blonde hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in months. Underneath the crudely paper mache'd, orange mask that looked vaguely like a jack-o-lantern. She could also see no trace of any injury from when she had last seen him. No stab wounds, no bullet wounds, but then again, she figured those were probably under the white t-shirt and robe they had thrown on him. It was kind of terrifying how he could even look menacing dressed in something of that sort. Laurie could also see no evidence of him having been  _shot_ in the _face_ , by her. Her with her unsteady hands unused to holding a weapon of any kind, especially a gun; who knows, she might not have even hit him as lethally as she thought she had. Maybe it had only clipped his ear? Either way, she couldn't tell - if not for the mask over his face, his hair was covering every other part of his head. There was no way to tell.  
 

She had to admit, even though her hands were still trembling on top of her thighs under the table, and even though her stomach still churned, she was enthralled by him. She wasn't sure what it was about his presence, but it held her hostage just as much as he had when he'd kidnapped her. She knew that her obsession with him on top of her fear was part of what had drawn her to come to him today. Laurie also couldn't deny, as sick as it was, and as much as she hated herself for it; knowing that she had family, real blood family sitting right here before her eyes... it stirred something within her. And that was the only thing keeping her here.  
                                                                                                         

 

                                                                                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
 

Laurie wasn't sure how long they sat there just staring at each other, studying each other openly. Well, she assumed he was studying her. He didn't appear to be doing anything other than collecting dust in the chair across from her. She knew that she should probably get going soon, unsure of what time it was at the moment, and even more unsure of when the Sheriff would return home to check on her. She had known from the get-go that there was always that possibility that he would realize that she had gone, more like probability. But if she covered her tracks well, he'd never know where she'd really been. No one would.  
 

Though she was still terrified beyond reason, she was also intrigued enough to come back. Admittedly, she wanted to know more about her brother, even after all the horrible things he'd done. _Why_ had he done those things? What had driven him? The answer to that would probably lie within their family environment that they had grown up in. She had to find out more about her blood family, and maybe she'd get some answers. She wanted to know him; though he'd caused her pain and fear beyond her imagination, she was also aware that he may not have been completely to blame for his own state of mind. There had to have been something terrible that had happened to him in order for him to be the way that he was. Despite everything, she felt a spark of sympathy for the man in front of her.  
 

Her attention was immediately drawn to her brother when he shifted in his chair, and to her embarrassment, she flinched. She knew there was (probably) no way in hell he could break out of those chains, with his arms handcuffed to the back of the chair behind him. Then again, underestimating people like him was usually what got others into a lot of trouble. And after seeing all the mayhem he had previously caused, underestimating him was the last thing she should be doing. She looked at him, realizing that he had probably moved to get her attention, and for no other reason. Had she been zoning out again? She knew she had to get going before she started drooling at the table, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth as the pain pills kicked in full force.  
 

Very slowly, Laurie reached into her sweatshirt pocket with her bandaged right hand. She pulled out a folded photograph; the very one that her brother had given her in the basement of their old house. She would never admit how many times she had just sat and stared at the picture, sometimes for hours. If she awoke from nightmares and couldn't sleep, she took the picture out from the top drawer of her nightstand and stared at it until her eyelids drooped. How very different things were when that picture had been taken; a little smiling blonde haired boy with nothingness in his blue eyes holding a screaming baby who clutched him like a lifeline. The picture had woven its way into her soul and filled some lonely place there.  
 

Unfolding it, she looked at it one final time before she slid it across the table to stop right in front of Michael, her hand trembling despite all her efforts to stop it. He followed the picture across the table with his eyes before tilting his head to look at her fully. There was no going back after this.


End file.
